


On the Other Side

by dizzy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vala's drunk, and Cam wants too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/stargateland/profile)[**stargateland**](http://community.livejournal.com/stargateland/) big bang challenge. And I also must #thankjo for providing ~~porn advice~~ emotional support and beta duties along the way!

  
Cam is camped out at the bar, his fifth shot in front of him. He’s still pondering it, weighing the pros and the cons. He knows his limits, and he knows what he's already had; the shots, the jack and cokes before that.

Carter’s the designated driver for tonight, and he trusts her, but he doesn’t trust himself.

Vala’s in a black skirt and a little top that shows more than it hides. He can't stop finding her in the crowd with his eyes. He follows the steps she takes, looks just often enough to not get caught. That yearning in his belly gets stronger and stronger, like the weight holding down those feelings has been snipped free.

He tells himself over and over that it’s pointless. It’s a bad idea. He’s the team leader. There are things he’s allowed to do, to want, to have, and things that are forbidden to him. It might not be spelled out in black and white in the rulebooks, but coming on to an alien thief isn’t allowed.

Besides, if Vala wants to go home with anyone here, it’s Jackson, and Cam knows that.

Jackson gets a pass from the rule books, because he’s Daniel fucking Jackson and he’s given his life half a dozen times for this program. Cam almost gave his life, but close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades, his dad used to say. He hasn't earned his stripes in the program. If he breaks the rules, it's his ass on the line, and he knows it.

Jackson could probably start fucking Vala in the gateroom and people would just turn their heads and pretend they didn't see what was going down. The only one that tells Jackson what to do is Jack O’Neill, and Cam might not entirely get that dynamic but he knows that it’s something he’ll never have with Jackson.

He tries not to be bitter, and tries not to think about all the reasons he would have to be. That shot is looking more and more appealing the longer Cam lets his thoughts wander.

Then Vala’s beside him and the shot is gone.

She orders two more, and points to Cam for the tab while she gives the bartender a great big smile. He rolls his eyes and just nods. She turns that brilliant smile on him this time, pleased to have gotten her way, and gotten more alcohol. She’s drunk – he can tell by how she leans on him, how she puts her arm around him and nuzzles. He tries not to enjoy it too much, and fails miserably. Vala doesn't get drunk often. She can hold her liquor, but she's tiny and she's had a lot tonight. She's strong but she isn't superwomen. She has her limits just like everyone else.

He hates seeing her when she's pushed further than what she can handle. He remembers watching her cry in that warehouse, the way Jackson hugged her. He remembers cold anger and swallowing the bitterness that lodged itself into his throat.

Right now, it's him she's looking at, though. Not just looking - reaching for.

“You should dance with me,” she says, smiling and moving her hand up to trail her fingers over his cheek. He shivers a bit and her eyes narrow but alcohol fogs her razor sharp skills of perception. She lets whatever thought might have darted across her mind flutter away. “Please.”

She’s so used to hearing no that she begs before he even answers.

It’s the Jack Daniels doing the talking when he says, “Okay.”

She practically bounces with excitement, and immediately tries to pull him toward the dance floor.

“After the shots,” he says, because he’s paying good money for them, so they’re damn well gonna do them. Once the bartender places the two glasses in front of them, Cam lifts his and waits for Vala to do the same. “Count of three?”

She nods, shotglass grasped between her fingers. He hits three, tips his glass back and swallows smoothly. She does the same thing, gleefully laughing afterward and shaking her head. “Now, dance.”

*

Something happens on the dancefloor. Something he never intended on, something he doesn’t think was in Vala’s plan either.

Vala's body so close to his.

Vala's voice in his ear.

His hands, moving. Her gasp, his groan, her teeth on his skin, his body responding. She'd felt it - felt him hard, and then there had been kissing, wet tongues and he'd had just enough sense to know that this didn't need to happen on the dancefloor, so they’re not on the dancefloor anymore. They’re against the wall in the back, near the bathrooms, and it’s a bad place to be but shit, he’s really drunk and she’s making that noise…

She winds her arms around him, sweat damp on her neck, her pupils blown. She’s gasping, grinding against his thigh, whining and whimpering as he rocks it into her. Her hands scrabble at his shoulders, fisting in his shirt, and his mouth crashes onto hers hard again. “Cameron,” she says, and he can see her working toward it, catches those cries in his mouth as she surges up and then shudders.

Fuck. He just made Vala come.

She slumps back, trusting his arms to keep her up. He rests his head on her shoulder, labored breathing, cock still rock hard against his thigh. She lifts her head slowly and even more slowly releases her death grip on his shirt. He turns his head and kisses her again just to keep her quiet, because he’s not ready to hear it yet.

*

He’s sitting in the booth alone. Sam and Jackson and Teal’c are still playing pool; he has to laugh, because Sam and Teal’c are sober but Jackson definitely isn’t and that means she’s probably heading home with all Jackson’s cash.

He’d jerked away from Vala when someone approached, mumbled something to her and fuck, he can’t even remember what he’d said now, but she’d walked away.

He sees her when she comes back, and she sees him, must see him flinch but still makes her way right to him.

He’s in the booth and she sits down beside him, turning her body toward his like she's trying to hide from everyone else here. She puts her head on his shoulder and an arm across his stomach, tucking her head into him.

He’s thoroughly confused and his head is swimming but he holds her back.

“Done dancing?” He asks. She nods. Her hand wanders down and, shit, his hard on had finally gone away but it doesn’t take much for it to make a comeback. Her fingers find the shape of him. He groans quietly and grabs her hand, pulls it away. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“Why? Because you’ve been secretly in love with me for who knows how long?” She smirks at him, that infuriating smirk that he wants to wipe off her face. One day, he thinks, he’ll find a way… something that doesn't involve strangling her. Something to shut her up... and then he remembers how she’d look when she’d come and, not smirking at all, god, he’s in so much trouble, because he wants that again. He wants that as much as he can get it, as often as she'll let him.

If she'll let him.

He wants it but he still has some dignity, he thinks; maybe.

“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” he says.

Apparently so.

She takes it in stride.

“Fine, maybe you aren’t in love with me, but you want me,” she argues. She grins and like a flash she’s in his lap, straddling him. He feels a flush of panic, what if one of the team sees, but this side of the room is dimly lit and he can always just shrug and say Vala in that ‘what can you do?’ way and they’ll probably dismiss it.

“Of course I want you. I’m a guy, I’m straight, I’m still breathing,” he mumbles, his hands moving to her back – not her back, her ass, and she likes that. She lets out a low, sweet sound and grinds forward against him.

“So then we should go,” she says. “To your place.”

He licks his lips. It’s so tempting. He wants her so badly. He can feel it thrumming through his veins, taking hold. He means to say no, yet again, but what comes out is, “What about Jackson?”

Vala’s gaze narrows. “He’s not my father, or my keeper. And Cameron, I can assure you, he has never made me come with my clothes still on… or even with them off.”

He’s not sure if that’s a stab at Jackson’s skills in bed, or an admission that they’ve never actually done anything. He knows which he’d rather it be, but he’s not going to ask for clarification. He pushes her off of him and digs in his pocket for his cell phone, handing it to her. “I have to go get my card from the bar. Call us a cab.”

*

In the bathroom, he splashes water on his face. He’s sobering up – hasn’t had anything to drink in almost an hour, before the dancing, before the dry humping. His erection insists this is still a good idea. He thinks about how he spends his time lately – fighting, bleeding, almost dying. He’s not Jackson, but, maybe he’s earned some fun. Maybe Vala has, too.


End file.
